Somber Sobriety
by Liimbo
Summary: Huang tries to explain to Hei the absurd necessity of drinking to mend the broken heart at the cost of a sick liver.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Darker Than Black. This was written for my entertainment and yours, and that's only the profit to be had here. ******Happy reading...I think.****

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><p>It's a sad thing when you can still remember the number of pints you had and they've long since reached the double digits.<p>

Sitting in an empty bar cradling a shot of many before, Huang had felt the whiskey kick the gut long ago. That's what happens when you go too fast, and on an empty stomach for that matter. It was also one of those cheaper brews, hardly differentiable from paint stripper or wood varnish, and bitter just like him. It still took the edge off of things, made the world look a bit less sharp, and a bit less cruel, and that was what he needed.

But it was still far from enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, the former cop can see a man standing in the open doorway, watching him with a steady gaze that was at complete odds with his whimsical smile.

Mao had professed not to care if Huang was a drinker, so long as it never interfered with his work. Yin had never commented on it. But than again, she rarely commented on anything.

In white shirt and old jeans, Li Shun Sheng scanned the bar and took in all the empty stools and the empty space behind the bar counter. A cursory look, but it was the Black Reaper of mask and trench-coat who observed it all with those flat eyes before he strode over to sit down next to Huang at the bar, the smile fading away like smoke in rain. 'You're at it again,' Hei remarked bleakly, staring ahead.

Huang scowled. He could say a lot with a scowl.

'Why?' The Contractor asked.

But Hei, Hei was a whole different story and a half, this Contractor who frequently contradicted his own existence. Who did things even the most foolish of humans would never dare to consider in their most benighted of moments.

Huang had bottles and carafes arrayed before him. Different brands, different drinks, all paid for beforehand. On some nights he mixed cocktails out of them, brandy and gin, wine and beer, and one time it was somehow chocolate milk and vodka. Tonight he just chugged each one down from the glass, slowly but surely, as if by trying each of them, he'll find the right one that will appropriately drown his hidden woes and achieve what he had set out to achieve on many nights before and for many years till now.

The whiskey's was out. Huang reached for the one with the rum. Last one of the lot, but maybe it's the lucky one. God bless Montilla.

Hei's hand clasped around the neck of the bottle.

Huang's fingers were steady. Even now they barely trembled despite the booze flowing through his veins. But even so, they grabbed only empty air as Hei yanked the bottle out of his reach. Huang's scowl deepened. 'It's not your concern, kid,' he growled. 'Whatever I choose to do in my free time.'

'It is now.' Hei set the rum aside.

'Kid, I've been doing this since you were still in your father's sack,' Huang snapped back.

'You know you'll regret it. Ten years. Twenty? If you're lucky you'll be bedridden with a tube through your stomach for the rest of your life.'

Huang chuckled at the mental picture. 'We're not going to live that long, kid. In our line of work no one does,' he sneered, ever the cynic.

'Either way,' Hei replied. 'This isn't rational,'

The ex-detective looked at him with something inexplicable. 'You will never understand,' he retorted. 'What it's like to feel like this. But if it were to ever happen, you'll be just like me, drinking your every meal out of a goddamn bottle. So don't give me that.'

Hei stared back at him. 'I won't hold my breath,' he simply said.

'Believe me, it happens to people.' Huang turned away and glanced at the ashtray set before him along with the bottles. 'I'm just sorry you Contractors lost that,' he said, tone world-weary. He'd burnt up a dozen cigarettes to stubs tonight. He didn't remember lighting up that many. Must have been chain-smoking them. 'Now give me back the bottle, kid.' Hei did so and watched as Huang twisted off the cap and hesitated in the motion of pouring the pint into the glass before settling for drinking out of the bottle itself. It was a hefty swig, and Hei raised an eyebrow in a silent question as Huang set the bottle back on the bar and glanced at him. 'I've been like this since the first time I ever tried the stuff. I take it like water.' Huang explained quietly. 'I think if it ever came to it, I'd probably be able to give the Australians a run for their money. Maybe the Irish too.' That'd be something to see, stereotypes aside.

'I've been to Ireland once,' Hei said. 'Glasglow.'

'Really? What for?' Huang asked. Hei tapped his nose. Classified. 'I see. What's it like there on the other side of the world?'

'Cold and rainy,' Hei answered. 'Especially in November.'

'Sounds a lot like this place.' Outside, as if to puncture that statement, thunder growled, signaling the advent of a storm.

'They don't have a Hell's Gate though.'

Huang grunted. 'Good reason as any to live there.'

'You should see the countryside. I even went fishing once.'

'Fishing?' Huang echoed in surprise. 'Never took you for the type.' More of a past-time for his own generation, rather than today's youth. He'd done it before, or at least he used to back before. Crucian carp was his specialty. Reeled in quite a number of them.

'Part of the work,' Hei replied.

'Caught anything?'

'A boot,' Hei deadpanned. 'A very big boot.'

Huang barked in laughter and slapped his knee at that. Despite himself, he offered the bottle to Hei. He blamed the moment on the fact that it was way past midnight. Unhesitating, the Contractor accepted it and took a swig too. Drinking buddies. Huang haven't had one since leaving the force. He could almost pretend he'd just left the precinct, still wearing the badge. Almost.

'Tell me about her.' Hei offered the bottle back.

Huang took it. 'Who?' He asked, but knew. He took a swig.

'The Contractor.' _The one who broke your heart twice that day._

The bottle thumped the bar. Huang shook his head vehemently. 'She's dead. No point talking about what can't be changed.' He took another swig. 'Dead,' he repeated. 'Nothing's going to change about that. Nothing at all.' He looked up at Hei, and as soon as he did, something he saw in the younger man that made his tongue betray him. 'Have you ever met somebody,' he began hoarsely, wondering why he choked on the words when his throat was hardly dry. 'Who made you forget all the worst parts of yourself? Who made you feel human when you haven't felt human for a long time?' He jabbed a finger at himself. 'When I was with her I forgot I had this ugly mug, boils and all. I forgot I was pushing forty with nothing to show for it. Hell, I even forgot my own name at one point. A pretty face can't make you forget things like that. There's something more to it. Do you know what I mean?' He paused, and closed his eyes in exasperation as he realized who he was asking this to. 'No, of course you don't,' he said quietly, answering and scorning himself in the same breath. 'You're a Contractor.'

Hei was silent at that. 'Where's the bartender?' He asked.

'Out running an errand.' Huang shrugged and answered the question Hei didn't pose to him next. 'I'm a regular. He told me to watch the place till he got back.' He waved to the door. 'You better go home. We got work tomorrow and there's no need for your cover to be compromised.' He waited a beat. Then: 'Li Shun Sheng,' he added.

Hei stood up and left without a word.

Huang hefted the bottle. Empty. He put it aside and watched his hand as he did so. It barely shook. 'Guess even the Montilla wasn't good enough,' he muttered out loud in the silence. One's never drinking alone if he talks to himself. 'Well I'll be damned,' he said without slur as he noticed it. 'There's one more.' He picked it up and turned it in his hands as he read the label. He grunted. 'Couldn't hurt. It's like that one Yankee said: Too much of anything is bad, but too much of champagne is…just right.' Or perhaps that was the booze talking. He shook his head at that thought. Not possible. First he had to be drunk.

He twisted the cap off and raised the bottle at the ceiling in a toast.

'Cheers.'

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><p><strong>PS: Spoiler - Hei became the new Huang for (most of) season 2. The irony was what inspired this piece.<strong>

****Thanks for reading. Have a good one.****


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